Deceive My Heart
by Ixomaxip
Summary: Hawke messed up. She's been taken by slavers. Now Fenris races to save her before she's taken to Orlais and forced into servitude. Who will accompany him? And who's to force him into realizing his feelings for the deceitful red-head?
1. Fatal Fall

**AN:** So, I had originally intended this to be a one shot for my wonderful friend because we're both quite big on shipping Fenris and Hawke.  
>Let's just say, I may draw this out for a a few short chapters rather than make this into one, very large one. Aside from that, I'm unsure of where the next chapter will go, even if I do know the end result of the story. As is always my issue. I never can work out the middle. Woe is me. xD<br>I kid. So, LillyPegs, this is for you. Thank you for all the wonderful idea's that never did make it to paper. Even more thanks for the ones that did.

* * *

><p>Blades flashed through the air, sheening metal hungering for the flesh it soared towards. Bodies wove in an intricate dance, bending and darting in various directions in a surge to avoid the knives that desired blood. Slavers shackles cackled in a menacing fashion, empowered by the performance they were witnessing. Their possible prey, Hawke and her friends were beginning to tire. It seems they had met their match, in mere slavers.<p>

The men and women clad in all black kept their appearance anonymous in each and every way. Of course they had got more than they bargained for; landing upon the infamous rogue's party, but their skill seemed off today. The sun had cast its spell across most of the city and many, including Hawke and her friends had fallen prey to the fatigue it induced.

Aveline carved her way through her enemies, many falling at her blade, others losing against her trusty shield she bore. Her orange hair whipped around her freckled face as she spun from one slaver to the next, swiftly striking them down also. Her eyes of grass green sparkled against the sun beating high above, a knowledge lingering below.

Isabella danced her way around the foes with a delight, relishing in the action and enjoying every moment of the fevered fight. Her tan body blurred with her precise speed and skill, never once falling prey to any attack. Another's blood coated her lustrous black waves, painting it the strangest colour one could imagine.  
>Fenris bashed and battered down his own group of attackers, his subtle magic aiding his conquest. Some were rendered immobile as he gave a flick of his wrist, driving his sword deep through their gut. His white hair smouldered with various hues beneath the suns daring rays. His bodies intricate adorning's mesmerised others as they moved with his sinuous muscles, designing their own dance.<p>

Hawke herself was centre stage, taking on more of the hostile party than two of her friends combined. The moves she made were more precise and elaborate as Isabella's, as strong and confident as Aveline's and more powerful and brutal than Fenris'. Her frenzied whirls left the blood red hair ripping about her face in its own uncollected dance.

Her eyes of deep purple held no evidence that she expected a loss any time soon. The way she moved and the look on her face indicated pure confidence in her friends and her own abilities. For a long time the battle raged and both parties traded fierce blows, Hawkes party having the obvious skill advantage, the slavers had the prestige of obvious numbers. The sand and rocks below the multitude of feet, flaring up around them as both groups skidded across the unannounced arena. The spray elicited its own pattern in an attempt to even compare with the intricacies being created atop it.

Seeing an opening a slaver raised his booted foot as high as it could and brought it careening into Hawkes back. With a yell she flew forward, her two daggers sailing through the air as she crashed to the ground in a daze. Choking on the sand she groggily lifted her head, only to be wrenched up with little care and immediately her hands shackled, the slavers thick skin hot to the touch and moist with perspiration.

Hawke's friends hadn't even heard her cry, too engrossed in their own battles to notice their comrades. One arm snaked its way around Hawkes stomach, pulling tight enough to wrench the wind from her, the other allowed a hand to slap across her mouth, beginning to immediately starve her of oxygen she didn't have. Wild as a captured deer she writhed in the man's grip, disgusted by the stench of sweat lingering on his palm.

The husky voice he emitted had the strangest lulling pull, it was inviting her to sleep. So, so tempting, even though the words were crude and had nothing to do with sleep. Hawke fought against the fatigue as powerfully as she could, finding her body weaker and weaker with each passing second. "I suggest everyone stops. Come on boys. This one alone will fetch a higher price than the other two girls combined." Even through her eyelashes Hawke was just about able to witness Aveline and Isabella bristle in anger as the black-clads withdrew.

In the few seconds that had transpired, the atmosphere had drastically changed. The once lively party and its members had tired. The music had slowed to a gentle rhythm and the dancers were lulled into a relaxed slow dance. Despairing for the red head however, was top priority, not sleep or rest. "Hawke!" Fenris managed to cry out before his knees gave way and he crashed to the ground beside the ginger warrior known as Aveline.

* * *

><p>Feel free to send me ideas. Of course this whole thing is going to make Fenris realise his love for Hawke and he's going to go after her. Seriously though, I'm completely open to help, and I thank you largely for reading this far. You have one more sentence to go. Maybe.<p> 


	2. You Don't Know What You Have

**AN: **First things first, thanks for the great reception guys! I checked my stats and this was surprisingly popular. Many thanks to those who added this to their alerts and, much to my surprise, their favourites. This chapter is a very drabble-esque style, I apologise. Well, thanks again to LillyPegs for forcing me into this story and constantly reminding me to do this constantly. I'd love some critical reviews, or friendly reviews. Please?  
>Well, I promise there shall be both action and a surprising twist in the next one. And further along.<p>

* * *

><p>As the sorrowful party traipsed across sand and grass to return to their ever so beloved Kirkwall, none spoke, each in too much shock to do anything more than step forward, one foot at a time. Eyes to the ground, he could only watch one foot land in front of the other. They were all so tired and exhausted; none knew what to say to the others, there were no reassurances spoken, not a despair uttered, just their heavy foot falls and the dragging of a solitary blade, courtesy of Aveline.<p>

Eventually their feet began to hit the cobblestone of familiar High town, the noble's land of Kirkwall. By now the citizens were no strangers to travelling parties returning coated in blood and either upbeat and gleeful or downbeat and worse for wear. Thankfully, Hawkes group had always been the former, more often than not revelling in the distasteful looks sent their way. Each of the members silently broke away as the group made their way through the city, only mumbling their farewell before turning into their chosen accommodations.

Isabella had never more dejectedly shuffled into the infamous Hanged Man than she did now. Varric, sat intently spinning another tale of greatness for Hawke to live up to, immediately dispersed the rapt audience he had gained with a frown coating his features. "Rivaini?" His immediate reaction to the mourning ex pirate was to rush forward and attempt to console her. Something he should know better than to try.

Aveline's feet guided her up the ever familiar steps to the guard's barracks, leaving Fenris alone to stumble for his, or rather Denarius' mansion, alone. How could Hawke be so stupid? The ginger wasn't even paying attention, much too busy condemning herself for not taking better care of her team. She should have been keeping an eye on Hawke, knowing she had taken a bad hit a few days ago. She shouldn't have even allowed her to come along on this mission. A captain must always look out for their team. "Aveline?" Ah, Donnic, a welcome distraction.

Fenris soon found himself stumbling up the steps to the mansion, wrapped in thoughts that should never have plagued his mind about anyone, let alone the fire he had lost today. Only finding himself in front of doors would tug the thoughts away; or at least try to. His head began to shake, denial. His heart threw itself into a race, fear. His lips, drying up faster than a spell would rent the air. His stomach felt….What was the word, abnormal. Something was inside and wished for freedom it knew would never gain.

Shock is all it is. They had lost both the battle and their leader. The thoughts of what she may end up going through if sold. He was vaguely aware that a bottle of wine had found its way to his hands once again. Slavery was no joke, that's something he knew he could sympathise with. Hmm. Turns out they'll now have something in common, both were slaves. If she makes it that far. Pretty girls like her may just be forced into something a lot less pleasant. Scratch that, something as wrong as the devil himself. As wrong and abominable as the despicable mages, much like Bethany, and Anders.

Oh how he despised Anders so much. He and Hawke had hit it off from the get go, and for some unfathomable reason, anger bridled on the surface. Irritation that she had chosen to associate with yet another mage. That was why. It had to be. There couldn't be any other reason. The wine was entering his mouth. He could find the familiar cool liquid sliding down his throat relaxing. Well, it should be. Why was it not working? Even after the situation with his sister wine had worked. So why wasn't it now? Perhaps it was to do with him being twined back into a world of slavery.

Filled with frustration, at what was beyond his guess, and angst he slammed the near empty glass to the table. The contents rattled upon the impact. This was ridiculous, if was going to become so restless he would simply have to go and find Hawke to get it out of his head. Outside, the stars had began to slowly come out of hiding and switch their breath-taking lights on again, the moon in particular had chosen to penetrate the murky glass windows he held so little care for. It was his only source of light to highlight the blurred edges of objects.

He should have to be so god-damn nervous, or jittery or worried about her. There's no pact between them, no obligations, free to come and go between each other as they please. He threw himself back into one of the only good seats, not even bothering to light his fire. He just wanted to forget. To do that he either had to lose himself to the land of sleep, where the possibilities were endless, or he would have to work himself so hard there was no room for any thoughts but his tasks. The former was much better.

Stumbling to his feet he shuffled from the main room, to the stairs that would ascend him to where he currently wished to be. Sleep was very much welcome at the moment, even a yawn had thought to prove the point. Unable to do more than drag his feet, ever so slowly, up the steps and stumble into his chosen room, he found no energy to even remove his boots before falling onto the bed, forcefully given by Hawke. She wouldn't allow him to sleep on something filthy. Great, more reminders.

* * *

><p>Many thanks again! Love you! *Hands cookie and hugs*<p> 


	3. Until It's Gone

**AN: **So, sorry guys. Inspiration failed me. I know I promised action, so I now owe you double next time. My notebook where a lot of this chapter was actually written got destroyed by a coke can exploding in my school bag. So none of this is how I planned it. It's more a HotP type of chapter. But still, I feel like, considering the reception this story recceived, I owed you guys something. I swear, action next time.

Again, thanks to my friend Lillypegs for persisting in reminding me at school. I finally sat down on Saturday and just typed for an hour or so, that's just over a thousand words in there. Please review guys! I love constructive criticism, so please, help me out.

* * *

><p>Night had fallen fast and they were all asleep, aside from Hawke of course. Despite the draining day she had participated in, both body and thoughts had kept her awake. She was terrified for once. Completely helpless. She just couldn't ever remember feeling more helpless than she did now. Her daggers and blades had obviously been taken, and she found she felt almost naked without them.<p>

A shiver of her body merely proved the point. Or it could be that the fire was about fifteen feet away and she was unable to move closer to keep warm. "Sweetie?" Amidst the darkness a tired voice sounded and of course Hawke immediately turned to investigate. It had come from a more elderly woman, mid- forties perhaps; it was hard to tell in this dark.

Just like all the others she was shackled in a way that would allow little movement. She must have noticed Hawkes shiver to call her out like that. The red-head wasn't entirely sure how to take this woman with a lined face and a bird's nest of wild black hair. "Are you okay?" Her brows were at least furrowed with concern, but she then realised what she had said. "I mean physically, you're shaking and you look so pale."

She definitely didn't want to admit just how violently sore her whole body was, or just how much jerking her innards was doing. Yes, it was painful. She nodded, attempting to look reassuring; there was really no need for this kindly woman to bother. To just add to her point she commented "Just a little bruised, I'll be fine." Thanks to the dying embers and a few weak stars, neither was able to gauge the others face and their level of belief.

"So, have you got a name sweetie?" This woman, whoever she was, however she had gotten there was a very protective, motherly sort. That was obvious to any that bore witness to her crinkled, gentle blue eyes. "Hawke..." Her response was immediate and she wanted to kick herself for letting the word out. If those slavers realised they had the Champion in their grasp, the humiliation and agony would be endless.

It was clear this woman knew of her feat, for she shifted and sat up to get a better look at her. Hawke groaned in irritation and hid her head in the crook of her arm. Would the woman tell? Even with her eyes clamped shut, Hawke was able to tell that the elder lady was settling down next to her, as comfortable as possible. "I'm Miriam" she explained in a soft voice. It was one that held understanding and hope. "Don't worry honey. They won't get a word out of me." Hawke shifted her arm enough to see a warm smile wriggle its way onto her hearty red lips.

She returned the sentiment, with a little less feeling, but some gratitude thrown in. "You'll need to rest." Miriam mumbled, attempting to get comfortable herself. "They're not going to carry you like they did today. There's going to be a lot of walking. I think they're planning to get us to the market in three days." The soft voice was surprisingly soothing. As Hawke settled her folded arms beneath her head, she listened to the soft words and found her eyes shutting. She really was tired. "…Even some Orlesians are coming down."

"UP!" The rude awakening was the same for all eight of those that had been caught. It was a roar thunderous enough to compare to sweet little Isabella's. Sweet, little? Those words did not describe Isabella well enough. They were the sort one would use to offend her. Where those thoughts had come from was beyond Hawke.

With a groan she managed to roll over in time to avoid a swift flying boot, aimed for her ribs. A guttural growl was sent his way as she scrambled to her feet, fire burning in her eyes. Despite the early morning, she was lively on her feet and ready to brawl. "Theras! What do you want to do with the scrapper?" The bellow was sent across the camp to the supposed leader of the group, and they clearly meant Hawke.

"Is she going to cause trouble?" The reply was sceptical and dismissive; he was engrossed in the task of giving clear orders to the many slavers spread across the camp. Hawke gave a growl at the reply that was given, just proving his point more. "Looks like it. She's ready to fight now!" She wasn't sure where Miriam had gone or what was happening to her, but right now, there was very little she could do about it and she was more focused on the conversation between the group leader and the rude slaver that had interrupted her happier moment of sleep.

It was an audible sigh before he replied "Fine." The leader had begun to purposely stride towards them, the length of black hair fluttering behind him. "She can ride with me if she's going to be trouble." His hand had gone to the small whip coiled at his side and rested there imposingly. He had clearly meant it as a warning to sway her from causing any trouble. She wanted to scoff. They clearly didn't know who she was; a good thing in fact.

"Leave us!" He had barked at the one that had awakened her. With a movement of awkward respect, suspiciously close to a bow, he turned and began to awaken others. The air was growing stale and beginning to stink of alcohol, the longer Hawke and Theras stood there, watching him leave. She crinkled her nose in repulsion and took small step back, aware that she still couldn't move far. The chains around her ankles and wrists were still constricting, and tugged her skin taut.

As soon as Theras was sure they were alone, he lowered his head to Hawkes level that was a considerable head shorter than him. He reeked of alcohol, stale and strong. His eyes bore blaring bags that indicated his hang over and lack of sleep overall. Stubble decorated his chin, a prickling black that aged him noticeably. Exhaling a breath that fluttered her mess of copper hair back from her face before threateningly murmuring "Such a pretty thing. Behave, and I may not have to hurt you." His lips twisted in a cruel smile as he spoke.

"You're to come with me in my carriage and behave. We're going to Orlais, quite a way from home. I don't want to miss the market. This time of year is perfect and I don't need you to mess this up and make us miss the deadline." He rose into a perfect posture, gave her a slight push before proudly walking away.


	4. MisStep

**AN: **Holy cow the reception of this story has gone way beyond what I imagined. And I'm feeling pretty damn proud. In March alone I've reached a grand total of 988 hits for all of my stories. Although, once this has been posted, maybe the number shall jump up a bit and hit a lovely, round thousand. Seriously, if I could make a thousand hits in a month, well, it would make my day. There's only a few hours left, so please help out.

As for this, well, it has more action and less, just lounging 'round an talking. I promise, soon the pace shall pick up. I'm just not a very action-y person. Perhaps if you guys just leave a little review the next chapter will be out sooner. I'll have a bit of motivation.

* * *

><p>He didn't want to wake up or hear those piercing bird chirps or feel the sunlight filtering through his curtains. No, Fenris wished to forever stay in his little cocoon of toasty blankets and slumber into eternity. No, that would be cowardice, a trait that is not at all deserving of admiration. He had to eventually face the music and brave the day, just not yet; his bed was so warm and his mind ever so fuzzy. How could he ever face the horrors and terrors of the world when right now, his little bubble of peace was so perfect.. Still, his thoughts would not allow him much time before his mind was invaded by the memories of the previous day.<p>

A frustrated sigh left his lips and Fenris rolled from his front, not meaning to fall from the bed to the floor. His body already ached from the fight and the collision with the floor. "You know," The sarcastic tone of Isabella rang from across the room "people primarily sleep on a bed if it's there and belongs to them, opposed to choosing the floor." Propping himself up with his elbows, Fenris shot a glare across the room where Isabella was framed in the doorway, looking at him with a smirk on her face.

Standing up and dusting himself off he shot an angry "It's not funny." Her way before turning to his armoire, filled with a multitude of black that he commonly wore. "What're you doing here anyway?" Fenris shot, already knowing just how her answer would go.  
>"Your door wasn't locked."<br>"That's not a reason." He didn't miss a beat with his reply.  
>"Do I need a reason to come see you?" Those words had elicited something close to a growl from the fair haired man.<br>"Well, _you_ do."

It was then that she had chosen to confidently strut forward and settle herself on his couch, crossing one leg over the other. "Fine," The sigh was one that was close to mockery "Just tell me, when you are planning to go after Hawke?" He blinked in something close to surprise. The fact that Isabella could be at all perceptive still seemed to surprise Fenris. Was it really that obvious that….? No, he didn't think of Hawke in that way; they just owed each-other a lot. She always helped him without question and knew not to invade his privacy. He would definitely miss her with her gone, but there was absolutely no reason for him to fight for her other than simple friendship.

"You know," The foreigner going by the name of Isabella spoke in a smug, almost arrogant tone. Somehow she had gone from the tattered couch to less than a foot away from Fenris in less than a second; stupid skills of the rogues. "It really isn't like you to space out in such a way. Are you sure you're okay? Not having any secondary feelings for our little leader?" Fenris' muscles tensed and the slightest need to defend his honour and integrity reared its own head. The smirk that took over her lips was one of pure bemusement and it irritated him to no end to see her mocking him in such a way. One that could easily be declined and known as being supportive as opposed the patronisation that she was giving him.

"Okay, go get changed." She demanded of him, plucking some clothes from the armoire and shoving them at his chest, forcing him to grab them and storm from the room while she settled herself down. It was then that she chose to truly survey her surroundings. It wasn't often she came here anyway, let alone by herself and without reason other than true concern. Still she wasn't about to admit such a thing anytime soon. It was strange actually, to be alone in his home and not speaking to anyone. The quiet she heard was almost, what one would call, disturbing. Still, there was a certain air to it that others would call peaceful. It was only moments later that the ringing of a door being slammed could be heard throughout the home.

* * *

><p>Isabella wasn't going to come along with him, that much was definite, and for that to happen, well, he would have to sneak out and get a head start. Fenris had to run his way through the town and weave down the war intended streets of Kirkwall. Fenris had to run until his muscles burned and his lungs threatened to burst from lack of air. He had left the city within minutes and was pounding down the dirt road that he and the others had dragged their way across the night before. It wasn't until he reached the very spot where it happened that his energy, the very fire that burned inside of him chose to falter and die. Fenris collapsed out of tiredness and found himself wanting to get lost in the world of sleep again. His desire and energy had failed him in the very same spots; when it actually mattered.<p>

Fenris truly hadn't though this through. He had no clue where he was headed or how to even follow the guys he was tracing. He almost always had help and it never seemed to matter as much as it did now, at this moment. Rolling onto his back Fenris lay there for a moment, shielding his eyes from the sun and simply thinking; mulling over the very limited number of options he had at the moment. There had to be someone he knew that understood how a trail worked and just what to look for to find someone. The moment it dawned on him, Fenris' face grew horrified.; or rather, as close as it would ever get for someone so guarded and careful about his emotions.

There was no way he could be trusted, what it was the he would do the moment the search was over. Would the already known traitor hand Fenris over too? It was definitely plausible. Alas, thoughts of such things would get him nowhere. Surely Fenris could simply worry about that when they reached their destination? Standing himself up with a definitive poise Fenris immediately turned back and began to head to the, now, ever so familiar camp of the Dales that had become a sort of home for him. It was certainly more comfortable to him and those that lived in the carefree manner amongst nature were much more accepting of him and his peculiar talents

Upon reaching what he would consider the edge of their camp, there was some definite hesitation from the fair haired elf that was truly, at this point, desperate. Why was beyond him. Still there was very little harm in attempting his most logical option. Considering money would not be an issue between these two and it was likely the one he was about to employ would have another motive, Fenris powered on into the camp and found himself immediately heading towards Master Ilen, the one he always did find much easier to speak to and surprisingly knowledgeable about what was going on in, around and nowhere near the camp.

"Ahh, Fenris, you're here alone today? Where is Serah Hawke?" He swallowed, finding it almost hard to deliver the news.  
>"Actually, her whereabouts are the reason for my visit." Fenris somehow, despite the emotional pain he was currently immersed in, managed to maintain his rather cool, suave tone. The Dalish weapon-smith responded with and obvious curiosity in his face.<br>"I'm afraid she hasn't been here."  
>"I know. She was taken by slavers. I need to know where the ex-Crow member is staying right now." He spoke as though he presumed that the location of Zevran would be common knowledge around this camp.<p>

Genuine concern did line Ilen's face as he replied. "He's actually in camp right now, speaking to Merrill about some sort of business proposal." He pointed in the general direction of Merrill's tent, knowing that Fenris could easily find his way. "Thanks" Was thrown out before Fenris had darted off to find what he knew would be one of the biggest regrets of his life and make an offer that couldn't be refused.


	5. A Hounds Price

**AN:** I'm like super sorry guys. Life and exams and just everything in general have got in the way, and I conformed two of my friends to D.A at least. They're like obsessed now, so there's two more to add to our family. To make up for it I'll do my best to have the next chapter out within a week, though, knowing my luck, it's not likely to happen and things will get in the way.

Though, the summer holidays start Thursday for me and even though most of the sport seasons start around this time for me, I should have way more spare days and time.

* * *

><p>Inside the tent heat swarmed around the two residents that were lounging neatly in their respective seats, one carefully examining his reflection in the shining flat of his blade; the other, Merrill, held an intricate staff in one hand, a small, fine carving knife in the other. She was determined to make it seem beautiful and unique and all attention was centred upon the beautiful wing of a butterfly she had etched into the wood. The eyes of the male, Zevran, seemed to be focused on a single hair, almost leering at it, as if mad that it was out of place. Next to him, a boiling cup of tea sat, with steam intricately curling from the liquid.<p>

Rather suddenly it was wrenched from its place by the opening of the tent flaps, a mere shadow framed by the suns light. Merrill's head shot up at the sound, her eyes squinting at the intruding light.  
>"Fenris?" She frowned, stepping forward a few tentative steps and raising a hand to block the glare. Less than a second later, her smile broke out and Merrill rushed forward, ready to embrace her now dear friend, despite his tall and imposing demeanour.<p>

Her manners and position remembered, the mage slowed herself and halted at the entrance with an almost bashful air.  
>"How're you doing? Would you like some tea? What're you doing here?" She streamed questions at the silent elf. A delicate smile cracked his lips, despite his reluctance to allow any favourability into his life's tone. With a two strides forward he closed the small distance between them to grasp at her shoulders.<br>"I think you ought to sit down, you're not going to like this news." With very little force required, he guided her back to where she had sat previously.

Behind them, the third elf took little interest in the exchange until the freshly commissioned keeper was gingerly on her seat again, with only the slightest protest. "Fenris, I-I don't understand what's going on."  
>"Just give me a moment." He looked back to where Zevran was shifting himself into a more comfortable position to listen. "I'm mostly here for your friend."<br>"Me?" He blinked his long lashes in surprise, seeming rather taken aback by this information, as did Merrill.  
>"Zevran? Why?"<p>

His sigh deep, and his words heavy, Fenris placed himself neatly on the remaining seat and crossed his legs.  
>"I regrettably need his help." He bowed his head for a brief moment as if mulling over his next words, a symbol to the other two that they should give him a moment; to collect his thoughts most likely. Merrill and Zevran both allowed their eyes to flicker to the others for a second, concern filling the timid mage, curiosity and a trace of lust from the old assassin.<p>

Without lifting his head he spoke, eyes locked upon his unsteady hands as his fingers twisted and twirled in agitation.  
>"Hawke's gone…Some slavers got her." His voice was unsteady, his mind reeling from the realization of what this actually meant. This remarkable person who cared for him and had already gone through so much; knew pain and suffering like he had, was about to be rushed through even more hurt, both physical and mental.<p>

"Hawke." Zevran tasted the name on his tongue, struggling to put a face to the powerful flavour. "Oh, she's that beautiful red-head that took down the Vaterral, right?" Of course this comment had gone unheard by both, or was decidedly ignored

There was an air of hesitation from Merrill, one of the few who understood how Fenris must feel about this goddess of a woman they all, somehow knew, through motives, luck and desire. She was silently torn between her need to merely comfort him with a simple, curing hug; and the fear that held her at bay.  
>"So why do you need me?" Zevran's voice tore through the quiet air with the arrogant sounding question.<p>

He was answered with the stares of both magic wielders, as though the answer were obvious; which it was.  
>"What?" The well-structured elf held his hands up in innocence "It's a fair question and here's another one; what do I get out of helping you?" Leaning forward, he looked between the two expectantly. Neither was sure what sort of payment people such as Zevran really took, of course money was always a good place to start.<br>"Money's no issue, just name your…."  
>"Oh, I don't need money; things are going awful well at the moment." This statement caused Fenris and Merrill to share a rather nervous glance between themselves, a tint of curiosity gleamed in their eyes.<p>

At this point the sun was sat high in the sky, neatly upon its throne of clouds; it commanded attention through an intense heat that had begun to weave its way down into their tent. The air was becoming more thick and humid by the minute and Fenris itched more and more for every second that they wasted here, the further away Hawke would be.  
>"Well, what do you want?" He definitely seemed irritated by the delays being encountered in the tent.<p>

"Now, there are many tempting things I could easily have from either of you." His eyes trailed down Merrill's face and her body, down to her lap where the staff lay, almost forgotten by now. His lips curled up in a smile as his eyes then rose up and along the well-muscled arms of Fenris, lingering upon the curious patterns. He was insinuating something, that much was both obvious and frustrating, but neither knew exactly what it was, the way his eyes seemed to scan them and their surroundings.  
>"Well, spit it out." Oddly this came from Merrill, and she sounded rather sure and confident.<p>

"I will name my price," Now he had all the power and knew it "in time. It depends on how much of my time this wastes." Fenris practically rolled his eyes at this. It was typical behaviour from such dealers, and he was prepared for this.  
>Fenris stood up quickly, absolutely itching to take off after his un-admitted love "Great, can we get going then?"<p>

* * *

><p>Stones were being churned up by the steadily turning wheels of the carriage, flying up and around where Hawke sat, with only a thin sheet of metal separating her from the possible injury. It was as though the horse knew what its masters were up to, and wanted to cause them as much stress as possible. The steady clipping sound of hooves connecting with stones was easily blocked out by the constant stream of thoughts whizzing through Hawke's mind.<p>

There had to be a way to escape, to get away from here and back to Kirkwall. Her eyes flickered to the window, through which she could see the few others who were to be sold alongside her. She had to get out, but not without them. Fenris had often described the tasks expected of a slave, some of which were worse for the females; and if he was ever sure of anything, it was that no one else should ever have to endure such treatment.

Thoughts of her friend forced a small smile to shape her lips as she remembered his passion as he spoke, and the way he took charge. She knew at that moment, that the two things to get her through this ordeal, would be the thought of those at home, and the drive to free these people beside her.  
>"What're you smiling about!" A small lick of pain wrapped around her knee with the exclamation of the whip wielder.<p>

This man bore the nickname of 'Spider' well, for his features did have a rather spider like quality to them; his eyes, large and bulbous, arms prickled with hairs, and a firm, round backside that did look as though it could contain a web. He honestly thought he could break her with a mere twitch of a whip; the foul man was much mistaken.


End file.
